Lobsters and Merlot
by teammccord
Summary: Drunk Elizabeth. What else do you need?


_A/N: This is for storiesseldomtold and a homage to our Tumblr conversation (you know what I mean). Anyway, this was so much fun to write, and I hope it's at least half as fun to read. Drunk Elizabeth is my favourite. Enjoy, and please leave a review if you liked it._

 _P.S. I read somewhere that Téa was offered the role of Rachel Green and turned it down, which makes this even better._

* * *

The evening had started innocently enough. Elizabeth had been home alone, which never, ever happened (usually she was the one out and her family was home), but today seemed to be a day of opposites. That realization was becoming increasingly funny to her as time went by.

It had started when Elizabeth entered her house fairly early for a weeknight, expecting that for once, she'd actually be able to eat dinner with her family, like a normal person. Instead, she'd found a note on the kitchen counter, pointing her to a container of leftovers in the fridge. Along with that message, it also explained that none of her family members were going to be home that night.

Alison was studying and sleeping over at Isla's, Jason and his 'dudes' were going to play video games, and Stevie and Jareth were spending the night at his place. To top it all off, Henry's former colleague from UVA (and coincidentally one of his better friends) was in town and they were going to catch up over some beers and a football game in one of the bars downtown.

Her family had clearly not expected her home at a reasonable hour, as Henry had signed the note with a _Good night, Babe xx_. She sighed as she read it over, and surrendered to the realization that she'd be spending her night alone with a Tupperware full of leftover curry. So much for the perks of being Secretary of State, she thought as she put the food in the microwave and set a timer. At least she'd be able to catch up on some shows, she mused, as she waited for the minute and thirty-seconds to pass on the clock.

Armed with curry and a glass of Merlot for good measure, she curled up on the couch under a blanket and turned on the television, flipping through her list of queued shows as she tried to decide what to watch. She ended up settling on reruns of _Friends_ , because classics never got old, and honestly, she just wanted something funny to take her mind off of how pathetic her Thursday night was looking.

As she worked her way through a few episodes, her glass of Merlot was emptying itself and she'd resorted to bringing the bottle over with her so she didn't run out. Pretty soon, the bottle was getting empty too and Elizabeth was filled with that warm, slightly giddy feeling of having had just a little bit too much to drink.

Now, Elizabeth wasn't one to get drunk often. Sure, she'd been plastered a few times in college, and she got tipsy every once in a while when she went out for drinks, but it was always within reason. Her tolerance for alcohol wasn't the highest, so she usually limited herself to just a few drinks here and there. Besides, she hated losing control of her mental faculties, and always found herself cringing after being told what she'd been like in a drunken haze. She very much fell in the category of friendly, smiley drunk, and became very liberal when voicing her love and adoration for anything and anyone whilst under the influence.

She'd begun to let out her emotions at the characters on her screen, watching Ross and Rachel debate wether or not they'd been on their fateful "break".

"Rachel, don't be such an idiot!" she practically plead at the tv, "He's your lobster! Come on!" The Merlot was really getting to her head.

Seeing the disaster that was the current state of Ross and Rachel's relationship, she couldn't help but be grateful she had Henry in her life. They were solid, and she loved him with all her heart — and he loved her with equal fervour. Somehow, they'd managed to wether life's storm together, and make their relationship even stronger through all the ups and downs, all the curveballs that'd been thrown at them.

Hmm, she really could be a poet, she mused, impressed by her own metaphors. As she thought of Henry and their marriage, she was flooded with the urgent need to remind him just how much she loved him.

She clumsily fumbled for her phone, and eventually produced the offending object from inside her shoe — though she had no coherent explanation of how it had gotten there. After a few failed attempts at unlocking it, which were accompanied by a fair share of cursing, she managed to send a text to Henry.

" _Love yu. You're my lobster, alwayz._ "

She hit send, pleased with herself, even though there was a little part of her brain that told her she'd definitely spelt something wrong. She couldn't tell what, though, and decided it was okay. It was the thought that counted.

A few minutes later, she'd dozed off and was ripped from her peaceful nap by a buzzing. She was well-prepared to be furious until she saw who'd messaged her. Henry, her sweet and perfect Henry. She smiled widely and read his text.

" _Love you too. Babe, are you okay?_ " he'd written, and she chuckled. Henry was too cute.

" _I'm ok. Ur jsut a sexy lobster, that's all._ " The reply was almost immediate.

" _Elizabeth, are you drunk?_ "

" _No… i;m home an perfectly kay._ " She smiled to herself — she could use all the cool texting lingo her kids used. Ha.

" _I'll be home soon, baby. Sit tight. xx_ "

" _lov you!_ "

Henry was coming home, she thought, her brain foggy with alcohol and love for her husband. He was her lobster, forever and always.

…

Meanwhile, Henry was sitting in the bar with Max, one of his former colleagues from the theology department, catching up over a few beers and watching a truly awful game of football. From what he thought, Elizabeth was still in the State Department, as usual, and he only hoped she'd actually be able to come home tonight for a change. He fully expected to be home before her, but in case of the unlikely reverse scenario, he'd left a note on the counter to let her know where everyone was. He didn't think she'd ever read it.

Which explained his surprise as his phone lit up with a text from his wife. He'd briefly ignored it in the middle of a tense play, but his team lost the ball quickly, and he sighed. They were losing spectacularly.

He read the message then, furrowing his brow. What the hell? Elizabeth never misspelled anything, she was a total perfectionist. Nor did she ever call anyone a lobster. He was truly confused as to what his wife was up to. He texted back, the concern evident.

When a similarly misspelt reply came back, with texting shorthand (which Elizabeth normally hated) and a saucy remark, it dawned on him. She was drunk. He couldn't suppress a chuckle at the thought of his wife, tipsy and slightly incoherent. It didn't happen often, but when it did, she was absolutely adorable. Not that she wasn't adorable sober, it just meant she was very, how could he put this diplomatically, _vocal_ with her love.

He texted again to confirm his suspicion, and was sent another grammatically incorrect message apparently meant to placate him. He just chuckled and told her he'd be home soon. Truthfully, the football game was a total flop and he wanted to use any opportunity he got to spend time with Elizabeth, even if she was drunk. He typed a quick reply and excused himself from Max, telling him they'd meet up soon.

As he took an Uber home, his phone lit up again, and he grinned. This was going to be an interesting night.

…

Henry opened up the front door and stepped inside the house, not entirely sure what to expect. The sight he found melted his heart. Elizabeth was curled up on the couch, buried under a blanket, watching _Friends_ on the tv. An empty wine glass and similarly empty bottle of Merlot stood on the coffee table, along with an empty Tupperware (she'd obviously found the curry) and a tub that had previously contained ice cream. Some habits never changed, he mused, smiling.

He tiptoed over to the couch, unsure if she was sleeping or not. She wasn't, he realized as she saw him and broke out into a huge grin.

"Hey lobster," she said, standing up and traipsing over to Henry.

It finally clicked; she'd been watching _Friends_ and Phoebe had always said Ross and Rachel were each other's lobsters. He chuckled as she came closer, slightly wobbly on her feet. He caught her easily, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Hey yourself. Had a little wine, I see?"

"Maybe," she admitted sheepishly, and stared at the floor, a blush creeping up her cheeks. He just smiled and led them to the couch. Elizabeth was rarely this vulnerable, and he cherished being able to take care of her, knowing she didn't have her impossibly strong skin on at this moment.

Instead, she curled up in Henry's arms and they watched a bit of the show together. Suddenly, she shot up and looked him in the eyes very matter-of-factly. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Of course, babe. I love you too," he said quickly, not sure what would come next. Adorable as she was, drunk Elizabeth was also a bit emotional and slightly unpredictable.

"Good. Because you're very, very handsome. And sexy too," she slurred, smirking. He just laughed as she dipped down and captured his lips in a searing kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, and their kissing was soon becoming a full-fledged make out session on the couch. Perched on top of Henry at one point, she began tracing her fingers under the hem of his sweater, urging him on.

Henry broke away from her, and she groaned and looked utterly disappointed. "Hey," he reassured her. "You're drunk, and I don't want to do anything you're not going to be coherent for. Kissing's great, but that's it tonight, okay?"

"Kay," she muttered. He really was too perfect for his own good sometimes. She settled for kissing then, hungrily descending upon him once again. He arched into their kisses, smiling. How he loved her.

Pretty soon, Elizabeth was curled up in his arms, dozing off to sleep. He turned the tv off quietly, and very gently slipped off of the couch. She barely registered it; she was out like a light. He chuckled to himself and made quick work of cleaning up the coffee table. After, he picked her up from the couch with ease and started carrying her upstairs to their bedroom. She mumbled something incoherent about halfway up the stairs, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering a soothing _shhh_ in her ear.

He deposited her on the bed and got a glass of water and an Advil, knowing preventative measures were needed to fight off the hangover she'd surely have in the morning. He gently shook her awake when he came back, helping her change into pyjamas and making her take the Advil and drink some water. She fell back on the bed, exhausted but grateful for her husband. He changed himself and slipped under the covers next to her, as he wrapped himself around her and they both fell asleep.

…

Elizabeth woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. She was groggy, and she squinted as the early morning sunlight filtered into their bedroom. Slowly, her mind was beginning to function again, and parts of last night were coming back to her. She groaned and blindly felt for her phone. Something told her she'd texted Henry at some point in the evening, and she had to make sure.

She scrolled through the conversation, shuddering at the spelling errors and abbreviations that littered her messages. She'd been practically loopy. Henry woke up then, and saw his wife re-reading their conversation. He grinned.

"So Babe, about last night…" he teased. That earned him a smack on the chest and he laughed. "Seriously, you're adorable when you're drunk."

"Uhh," she groaned, "and now I have a headache to pay for it. And I have to go to work."

"And you will do so with your head held high, and plenty of Advil in your purse," he said.

She had to laugh at that and rolled to face Henry. "Thank you for taking care of me last night, and sorry for the wackiness."

"It was my pleasure, I love you." He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, and she giggled.

"Love you too," she said, kissing him in earnest.

…

Later that day, Elizabeth and her hangover were trying to work through a stack of paperwork that couldn't have been more boring if it tried. She groaned when her phone chimed with a text — it had to be Blake or Russell Jackson with some sort of crisis.

When she saw it was from Henry, she smiled and unlocked her phone.

" _You're my lobster too. Love you always, xx._ "

Elizabeth just laughed out loud and grinned.

* * *

 _Fin._


End file.
